The Elder Scrolls: Facing Destiny
by Singer of Time
Summary: When a prisoner is freed by the strangest twist of fate, what is their first thought upon crawling out of the ground to the sunlight, carrying a king's legacy?  This is what one possible prisoner-turned-adventurer thinks.  Oblivion and Skyrim OC drabbles.
1. Oblivion: Facing Destiny

Oblivion: Facing Destiny

_Sunlight!_

That was my first thought, an exaltation of my very emotions as I stepped from behind the bars…out of the darkness of the sewer tunnels that connected eventually to the under-croft of the Imperial City of Cyrodiil.

There, for so long…I cannot even remember now...I was imprisoned. I'm not even speaking figuratively; I was once a prisoner in the city for some reason unknown even to me. But through the strangest twist of fate, a story too long for me to tell, I was set free and at the same time beset with a most important task.

I wouldn't even remember what that was until I composed myself. All I could think about was blinking the light of dusk out of my eyes and looking at my surroundings for the first time in ages as the door closed locked behind me.

The sensation...the feeling...it couldn't be described in mere words. It was as if I was born anew. Given a second chance. The world before me was bathed in twilight, the sky taking on colors that I'd almost forgotten had existed outside of the drab grays and browns and silvers of the prison and underground. I stood on a small hill made of pebbles and surrounded by tall blades of the greenest grass. Stretching out on the horizon were trees, shrubs, and hills…glorious, rolling, fertile hills.

And the _water!_

In the silence of the scenery, that silvery-blue water, kissed with the colors of the sun lapped ever so softly against the shore and seemed to beckon to my blood and the blood of my ancestors (as an Argonian, a race of reptilians raised in the Black Marsh, I felt one with water. We can even breathe in it; it is a world of our own, accessible by no others unless they had the proper spells. Though I had tried not to let it faze me, I knew that the sneering Dunmer sharing the cell across from me had broken through to my shell when he taunted me about the lake).

I knew I was standing at the banks of Lake Rumare, surrounding the Imperial City. I didn't hesitate. I walked to the little abandoned dock that lay across from me and sat at the edge, taking my boots off to dangle my clawed feet in the liquid. So cool…so wondrous…how fortunate was I to have the chance to experience it again? I licked my lips and ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to remember what fish tasted like.

I didn't even know if I _deserved_ that chance, for whatever reason I was in the prison. For all that the guardsmen knew, I was a murderer. A psychopath. A spy. Or even something as petty as a thief.

I don't even feel much like a criminal, really. Perhaps, as the Emperor told me, I was a humble soul chosen for a greater duty to the world.

I paused from slowly breathing in the new scents of the open world to look down at myself. I was certainly unique; except for the bright colors on my face and skin that showed my youth, I was completely white. Somewhat unnatural for an Argonian…and for the female I was, at that. I knew little about my origins as well, save for remembering my sign of my birth and my unusually talented skills in stealth and magic. To Baurus, one of the Blades assigned to the protection of the Emperor, I had declared myself a Witch Hunter…and to the Emperor himself my sign, the Warrior. In the prison, I wore shackles and brown sack clothes…which I had left in favor of the light suit of armor and other various things that I'd taken from the prison's discarded chests and remains of dead warriors. I also have a bow and a quiver of arrows, several pieces of alchemical tools, lock-picks, bits of food, and other things that I'd scavenged to either use or sell when I could.

Perhaps I _was_ a thief before. I don't like the idea of stealing from people when I can help it, but I do have a strong instinct for taking advantage of situations. I loot the creatures that I kill and harvest every plant I come across…I look in every box and chest that is untended or discarded. I have no doubt in my mind that I could survive this world. I can fight, and I can prevail.

My name at least never escaped my memory like my past did. I am called Eyes-of-Amber, because I have a hint of gold around the usual red of my irises.

I let out a sigh and returned my gaze to the surroundings, which had darkened in my minutes of solitude on the dock. Above me, the stars were a veil against the sky and the moons hung like they were the artwork of the Nine, the very gods, on display.

I felt tears stinging my eyes. _Oh, Gods…how beautiful. Have I ever seen the sky before? All of this?_

I felt undeserving again. But, as my hand fumbled around the pockets in my trousers, they closed around an artifact. Carefully, reverently, I held it up to the waning light. Curiously, I held it up and made as if to place it around my own neck. But instantly it fell off and back into my hands, rejecting me.

The Amulet of Kings. A pendant of unbelievable power, given to the heirs of the Dragonblood; the rulers of Cyrodiil.

Emperor Uriel Septim gave it to me upon dying down in those catacombs…his killers, men wearing conjured armor and donning red robes, had relentlessly hampered any attempt at getting him to safety. He was knifed, right in front of me.

His last words still haunt my mind…and I started to feel the weight and the importance of the task I was given.

The throne of the Imperial City is without an Emperor…but there is hope in the form of an illegitimate heir. I was told to find a man named Jauffre at Weynon Priory, on the path to the city of Chorrol to the west, for help in finding this heir and returning the amulet to him so that the world can be at balance.

_"Close shut the jaws of Oblivion…"_

A shudder ran up my spine, and I clutched the amulet tightly. I could feel its magic energy, but I wouldn't be granted it. It belonged around the neck of the Emperor.

_To think that the Emperor, the Blades…would trust ME, a lowly, random prisoner…with THIS._

I felt burdened. There was a side of me that wanted nothing to do with it. But another side cried out just as harshly. I couldn't just abandon what I'd been given. I was free. But there was a price.

_Maybe…_

I looked up to the horizon again, and let my view wander back to that steel gate that I'd crawled out of. From the reeking, vile, monster-infested underground to have the chance...seeing, feeling, _seizing_ the glory of the outside world, I'd been brought out by an impossible twist of fate and test of will.

It was decided.

"My freedom was given to me. The least I could do is earn it," I murmured just to hear the sound of my voice, placing the Amulet of Kings back into the pack I'd scavenged along with my other things and took out my map.

Weynon Priory was quite a trek away. The quickest route would be to cross the lake (and _oh_ how I wanted to swim again…), and stick to the road going west. And hope that the patrolling guards wouldn't recognize me as an escaped prisoner. At least I would be seeing so much of the rest of the province along the way. I had such a sense of exploration, and little idea of where to start. The ruins on the little island near the far end looked quite inviting too, in fact.

But my task was as good a start as any. Gathering myself and armed with my bow in case of trouble, I instantly dove into those cool lake waters and worked my limbs to spirit myself to the other side. I felt my strength returning, and tired muscles that were deteriorating from a life behind bars were crying out in the wondrous pain of being rejuvenated.

Return the amulet. Fulfill the dead Emperor's wishes. And then, maybe, perhaps, make a new life for myself with the second chance I was gifted.

_"In your face, I behold the sun's companion. The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may banish the coming darkness."_

It would be a long time before I knew what the Emperor truly meant. But as I pondered those words, swimming and running to meet my fate, I couldn't help but hope that it was only the short and sweet rant of a king who knew that he was going to die.


	2. Oblivion: The Gate

((AN: So yeah, instead of making this a short story, I decided to make this a little collection of my characters' thoughts on her adventures. Because I love the idea of doing partially what the game is meant to do in the first place: allowing one to not just play for the sake of playing, but play for the sake of the open-endedness. Creating your own story, going your own way, doing what you please. These are just the thoughts of my own character as she goes through what every Oblivion player might go through. There's not gonna be any specific order to them...I just think of a quest or situation to muse about and let the musing go. x3

As for this one...incidentally, I tried to capture the feeling of horror surrounding the realm of Oblivion...ever played it at night, lights off, alone? Yeah. CREEPY.

The Elder Scrolls games and all its elements belong to Bethesda, not me. Enjoy. And thanks for the reviews!))

2

Panting heavily, breathing the overly-nauseating and blood-scented air of Oblivion, I pulled my sword from the midsection of another Daedra and wondered just _why_ I let myself get roped into such a mess.

The body fell. _Finally._ It was such a good feeling to see the demonic humanoid thing utter its last garbled words and die at my feet in a pool of its own infernal blood. It was a Dremora, a type of sapient Daedra (or so I'd read about), and a spell-caster at that with the black robes that it wore.

I stood over it for a moment, just gathering my composure. I hadn't even the energy to clean the blood from my borrowed iron longsword…I imagine I must have looked such a wreck. My own blood was escaping my body to be held in by my taut leather armor. My breathing was failing me, more due to the scent of the air than to my battle-worn state. I weakly summoned the last of my Magicka reserves to fix some of my damage via my basic healing spell and felt a twinge stronger. Not much though.

Trying my hardest not to retch, my eyes wandered down to the corpse again. It was a Conjurer of sorts. And _gods,_ did I ever hate those. They would just throw summoned monsters at me again and again while running like cowards. This one had a poisoned arrow in its neck as well, though; a product of my earlier attempt at bringing it down. At least it had been weakened. But it still had thrown more than enough annoyances at me to wear me down.

At least now I was marginally safe. As far as "safe" could go when stranded in the twisted kingdom of a Daedric god of destruction. The muscles in my legs were tired from running…always running, and always _upwards_, through the halls and trap-laden rooms of a citadel.

Past doors and walls made of black iron. Through at least a dozen of these demons (I_ swear_ I will deafen myself if I hear a scamp charging at me _one more time…_). Up stairs and through doors that led into nightmare after nightmare after nightmare…oh, how I'd almost fallen into a pit in surprise when I'd opened the door to a torture tower and seen a rotting, open _corpse_ hanging by the neck in front of me…!

What _was_ this realm?

Surely, all hell had literally broken loose on Cyrodiil and _by the Nine, I'm IN IT…_

I took another few deep breaths and, feeling my Magicka slowly recovering as was its nature, I used another healing spell to awaken myself further. I'd have to find a Magicka essence fountain and soon…I'd preferred that to the other type of fountain I'd discovered littered around. It healed those who needed it, but you needed to drink the blood-like liquid to do so. No, never. I trusted my magic more.

I turned back to the task at hand and proceeded to distract myself from the oppressive atmosphere by kneeling and seeing what my latest victim had on their person that I could use. I rifled through the pockets of the robe.

A few potions and his...its?...mace. If I'd cut open his chest, I'd also have his heart…disgusting, yes, but a seasoned alchemist knew how great these rare organs were for healing potions. But, organs tended to rot if you carried them and didn't use them right away, so that was left. The mace I took; blunt instruments weren't my kind of thing to use, but weapons made for some good gold in the markets if you could carry enough of them.

After that, I left the body and gathered what was left of my resolve. I walked further onward into the final level of the citadel…my target, at last.

My mission sounded like quite a task from the start. A giant gate to Oblivion had opened in the city of Kvatch, and while I had to search there for a man unwittingly destined to be the emperor, I couldn't unless the thing that had destroyed the city was closed for good and its monsters sealed away. Haste and resolve had driven me to find out how to do just that…somehow.

So I'd entered this twisted landscape in which red was the dominant color. Red for blood, red for desert-like sands and nearly every deadly plant rising from the soil, and red for the oceans of magma stretching from horizon to horizon. The sky bore constant storms…blood and brimstone and ash all assailing the senses at once.

I'd met a frightened soldier whose comrades were lying dead below the bridge at our feet…I'd sent him back outside. Nobody else needed to die, I'd decided. I was better prepared. More men were needed at Kvatch, anyhow.

So, easy enough when you were assailed with fire magic every now and again, I rushed to find what looked to house the power source of these gates. A giant, central rising citadel seemed like the perfect place.

My own foolish desire to explore be _damned_ if it wasn't, with all the things I had to fight through and avoid. With having my conscience nearly ripped from my body upon realizing that I had to leave a prisoner to die in that torture tower.

But in this moment, as my eyes rested upon the column of fire in the room's center and trailed up to see a magical core at the top level, I just knew I'd found it. The end was in sight…finally…_Nine be praised, FINALLY._

And also, to my great relief, a Magicka essence fountain stood on either side of me. The liquid flowing was soothing…a cool blue in the stark contrast of the redness of this world. I staggered over, drank from it, and felt myself _flowing_ with all the power that I could hold again. As I absorbed, I healed myself. Again and again, a white glow poured from my right fist and encircled my body. My cuts were sealed, bruises cleared, breath returned to my lungs. As if I had never been in a battle, I was new again.

But still, I had my nausea. I'd hoped then, if I survived this ordeal, to _never, ever_ step foot in Oblivion again.

My resolve was also strengthened all the tighter in my heart. I had nothing more to do but see how I could end this realm.

Taking in the silence and the almost dramatic rumble of the fire column, the heat of the very room feeling like it grazed over my scales, I strode upwards on these ramps of stretched-out meat-like pieces of fabric that passed for stairs. My boots echoed with each hard-won step forward as I reached the platform at the very top and just gazed ahead at what was certain a thing of dangerous beauty.

Behind me was a fleshy pod…storage bags in this realm. I shuddered to think at what they were made of…but usually, the treasures that I'd found inside them had value that surpassed my hesitation. Grimacing as I pulled this one open, this one had charged soul gems and an enchanted amulet. _Perfect,_ I grinned. One of my rediscovered loves after leaving the prison was that of collecting enchanted items...for someone of that nature, things like these were invaluable.

Looting finished, none the worse for wear and with no guilt to speak of, I scrutinized the peak of the column of fire. Cautiously, I walked toward it…the flames burned hotter, but one never feared burning when they had ice magic.

My eye crest quirked in curiosity. This felt to me like the key to closing the gate…but it looked like such a humble thing. A round, black stone encased in the pillar of flames…it was held floating over a little chained platform, like an altar. But the stone had interesting properties, I soon realized…it was almost alive, thrumming outward with magic energy. As I held my palm up to it, I could feel it like a pulse. Menien Goneld—the one I still regretted I couldn't save—had called it a "Sigil Stone", and explained that I needed to remove it to close the gate.

_I wonder what would happen if…_

My hand crept closer, and my fingers nearly curled around the ball. The flames licked at me and I pulled back on instinct…feeling the heat, but I hadn't been burnt. I wondered if that was the new fire-protected necklace I'd gotten out of the treasure pod, or if that was the doing of the stone.

I squinted my eyes shut and gritted my teeth. My hand quivered as it came close to the fiery thing again…it was like I was about to snag a piece of coal still smoldering in the embers. _Come, Amber…this is it. They're all counting on you outside. DO IT._

It took only one mental push. Lightning-fast, I grabbed the Sigil Stone and tore it from its perch. It still thrummed in my palm as I clenched it tight.

There was an immediate response. The flame pillar was free, and rocketed upwards to smash into the citadel's ceiling. And everything came crashing down before my eyes. Almost at once, I regretted what I'd done…it was too late to stop the chaos. I simply took a few steps back and raised my arms and shield in what I thought as a futile block against the falling debris.

The building shook at its foundations and rumbled through every muscle in my body. The sound of destruction was deafening and knocked me to my knees. The flames of the pillar shot in all directions and engulfed the chained stage. The platform crumbled. There was a bright light.

And as the world shattered in white-red fire, I fell...and felt myself being pulled as if my soul were exiting my body.

* * *

It took only a few moments to recompose myself. I was breathing hard, eyes tightly shut, and was still cowering in a kneeling ball under my shield.

Only when things were silent and still…and felt cold, soothing rain on my back…did I come to my senses again. It didn't rain in Oblivion. Nor did the wind smell like fertile soil and foliage when mixed with ash and fire.

I looked up and lowered the shield, recognizing where I was. I was standing on a scorched piece of earth. The legs of the Oblivion gate were on either side of me, as if it had exploded upon its destruction.

My lungs released a breath that I was _certain_ I was holding in since entering the hellish landscape. _I'm alive…and back in Kvatch._

I resisted an overwhelming urge to fall over and just let the rain wash over me in my broiling relief. I opened the hand that still clutched the black, subtly glowing Sigil Stone. It didn't hum as strongly, but it was still there…perhaps, I thought, I'd keep it as a souvenir if nothing else.

My head snapped up at the sound of shouting. Savlian Matius, the captain of the guard of Kvatch, was still barking orders to his men behind the nearby barricade, shrouded in the rainy mist. Waiting for word from me.

I stood and released a shaky cackle of a laugh. Oh, I had word for them alright. I pocketed the Sigil Stone, made sure the rest of me was intact, and made haste back to the surely-surprised eyes of the guardsmen behind the wooden pikes.

If all went well after this, I'd finally be able to do what I came for. There was a man named Martin holed up with several other refugees in the cathedral within the destroyed city. A mere priest.

Little did he know what news I'd have for _him._


	3. Skyrim: Why I Fight

((AN: Man, I haven't updated this thing in ages. :/ But, since I changed it to also include Skyrim drabbles, I figured I should finally submit one. x3 Again, the particular character in this is my own created OC I'm playing in the game now, plus my own take on one of the followers and a few ideas from the game itself, and how my Dovakiin would act toward it all.

Also, the extra characters aren't actually based on any specific quest...I made 'em up myself. :B

Hope you guys enjoy! ^^ And also, those of you who follow me for my Avatar stuff, I promise I'll have something new to put up soon, or at least I'll try. xP My writing muse is being fickle again.))

* * *

Skyrim: Why I Fight

There are times I must sit and wonder why the threads of destiny have to be so _specific_ for most people.

Sure...everyone around me in the cities I visit that walk with all manner of facial expressions and calm gaits do not think much about their lives...other than the simple day-to-day errands of finding food, maintaining their homes and businesses...just living.

I have met a few people who've known differently. Up in the cold, dark mountains near Winterhold, there is a Dunmer woman named Aranea Lenith who tends to a shrine of Azura, a Daedric deity. Her entire life, her entire purpose, was to adhere to the visions sent to her by Azura...and whenever she does not follow me in battle at my request, she is always back on that lonely mountain, certain that fate has nothing else in store for her. No higher purpose than that of staying under the lifeless gaze of a statue of a deity that has long since abandoned her.

And then there is me, and this whole vast web of fate that I've been a part of ever since I stepped across the border of my ancestral homeland—my father's land—and accidentally landed myself in the back of a prison cart.

Really, looking back on it all...it's just hard to imagine _wanting_ to live life as I see fit, when I've been thrust into the center of a battle that will determine the fate of the Empire. The fate of Skyrim.

Dragonborn, chosen one, for the fate of the _world._

Am I really destined for nothing more than fighting?

What do I fight for? The land, my life, the lives of my people?

I am not a dark person by nature, not in the least...but these thoughts cannot help but cross into my head every time I take a moment to rest and let my mind wander.

It was a particularly cloudy day during my next bout of these thoughts, as I sat on a rock near the roadside in a deep green forest. I was fairly near a city, I believe, but I didn't yet look at the signpost that I'd stopped near. I had bitten halfway into a sweetroll, and then stopped to stare off into space, I suppose. I do not remember much else after that, not until I'd heard a concerned female voice addressing me.

"...What ails you, my Thane?"

I shook my head and glanced up toward my current follower and loyal housecarl, Lydia of Whiterun, who had been given to me as a guardian by the Jarl of the city after helping to save it from a dragon attack. She was wearing the Dwarven armor I'd found in my journeys and that I'd given her, strong and sturdy (though I made a mental note to stop by the blacksmith in town for some touching up on it), and looked ever the capable warrior as always. Her face was hard and dangerous, but her eyes were friendly as they were cast toward me in inquiry.

Though Lydia always insisted on calling me by my honorary title, to me she was a traveling companion, a friend, and had always been a good person to talk to. I doubt that I will ever become used to being addressed like nobility, or a hero fit for stories...I was always just a simple young woman of Nordic blood, yet with a fair love for magic and a knack for silence and the bow. A woman who simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So very close to losing my head along with the Stormcloak prisoners, my neck on a block that smelled of fresh blood, an axe ready to come down...

Involuntarily, as I do now whenever I think back on that fateful day in Helgen, I raised my hand to rub the back of my neck. I brushed a fallen leaf out of my short brown-blonde ponytail in the process, as I had taken my helmet off for comfort at the time. "Nothing, Lydia," I hummed. "I am just losing myself in thought, as I tend to do."

"As you tend to do an awful lot," she agreed, still regarding me with a concern that I thought almost sisterly, though I know it was mostly out of duty. Her head turned as she bit into a haunch of venison. "Not that I can blame you, truly."

I smirked. "Well, don't envy me too much."

"Envy?" she scoffed. "Oh yes, how I would _love_ to have _your_ job, Dragonborn."

"Come now, it's _glamorous,_" I continued to goad, the utmost sarcasm staining my voice. "There is nothing like being the one person in this whole existence that can permanently kill dragons, and thus be the only thing between existence and destruction, and all the while carefully planning how to be _used_ in a power play between the Stormcloaks and the Empire."

"Do not forget being chosen as an assassination target," she added bluntly, "by the _Dark Brotherhood._"

"Oh Nine, do not remind me," I snarled, holding my forehead in my hand. "Those damned _Thalmor._ I still laugh when I think of that note I plucked out of the poor fool's pocket."

"_I _still laugh when I remember putting an arrow in the bastard's throat," Lydia huffed. "Kill the Dragonborn. Not on _my_ watch, he won't."

I had to chuckle, and feel ever relieved for her presence. As my guardian, she took her duty seriously, and fought tooth and nail at my back many a time...often to the point of her own near-demise, which I in return often tried to prevent.

"No," I said at last, the mirth running out of me. "I know you would not want my duties." I sighed and let my gaze wander to the sky, wondering if I could spot one of the moons behind a sliver of an opening in the clouds. "I may only shoulder this burden alone."

Her dark eyes settled back onto me, serious. "You are not alone. I and many others would gladly march into the maw of the dragon Alduin alongside you; you know that."

"Yes. For me," I pointed out, my own hazel gaze dark with the shadow of my cobalt face paint. "But who fights for the world? For the people?"

"We all do. It is not just you, but your cause. It is for what you stand, that we too fight."

"My cause," I nodded once, remembering the words describing my duty from both the Blades, and by the Greybeards. Both agree only on one single thing. "To protect this world from being consumed in fire, as it were. Still...as I go along in fight after fight, dungeon after dungeon, kill after kill...I guess it bothers me sometimes, and I wish to forget that cause."

Lydia looked to speak, but after a pause, turned her head and said nothing. Observing my companion, I knew that it bothered her too, willing as she always was to fight and protect. In the case of all good warriors, deep down, there was little satisfaction, little cause, to be found in an endless career built with blood. At least I knew one person eventually bound for the eternal bliss of Sovngarde, the afterlife. Maybe more.

"There is still a fair chance that you will be able to live as normal a life as you wish," she mused after a long moment of silence and eating. "I have always believed that your fate is merely a guide. Your life is yours to do with as you will."

I nodded absently. Deep within my core, I knew that she was right. The only thing stopping me from living that life was my own sense of justice...of where order and chaos lay, and the decisions put upon me.

I reached into my pack right then, and my fingers clasped around a jewel. As I pulled it out, I admired its stark and shining features with an impassive face. The gemstone in the center, bluer than the high point of the day sky, seemed to draw me into its depths.

Lydia glanced over, her head tilted. "An Amulet of Mara? My Thane, is there someone I should know about?" she teased in a surprisingly childish manner, eliciting a short laugh from me.

"Not yet," I smirked back, still gazing at the simple-looking enchanted jewel that was used for courtship in Skyrim. "I had bought it on my second visit to Riften, when you were taking a break and watching the house back in Whiterun. I thought..." I felt my face soften. "I thought to have one, as a sign of hope that _someday_ I may be able to wear it and find an admirer."

"You do not want to wear it?"

"Not until the brunt of this entire journey is taken care of," I sighed and placed it back into a safe pocket. "Knowing what I am, my husband would probably be targeted. It would be a risk as it is anyway, seeing as the only temple of Mara is in the damned-infested _Riften,_ of all cities."

"I do not know about that; I think having a temple dedicated to the Divine most associated with love stands like a spot of hope in that city," she pointed out. "And besides, I never knew a Nord to let themselves be concerned with what _might_ happen. It is our way to live hard, die young, and love for _now."_

"So I have seen," I shrugged and rolled my eyes, remembering the attitudes of some of the Nordic men we had met. "My father is a Nord, but my mother is of Breton ancestry. I imagine I inherited my mindset from her in regards to love; my parents have always had a deep bond. I would not wish to lose _my_ husband either, whatever the circumstance." I shook my head. "Surely you wouldn't."

Lydia laughed. "I would not worry _too_ much for the man I would choose."

I quirked my eyebrows; this, she'd never mentioned. "So there is someone _I_ should know about then, my loyal subject?" I said with a grin tugging my lip.

Her face instantly crimsoned, but she kept her composure. "...No."

"You cannot lie to me," I laughed, "I have seen the way you eye the young men that frequent Jorrvaskr."

"The _Companions?_" she snorted. "They are beasts."

"You are much like them, still, so you would get along," I pointed out, enjoying the fact that I had brought out her embarrassed side. Lydia was more the warrior than I was...in ways, I was more timid. To see my stoic housecarl nearly stammering was a riot. "I certainly hope that you have not..._invited_ anyone to the house while I was away."

She sent me a narrow-eyed glare. "You wish for me to put a dent in that Scaled armor?"

"Are _you_ threatening _me?_"

Lydia blinked, apparently surprised by the stern tone my voice had taken. She immediately turned and sat up straight. "Apologies, my Thane."

I could not hold my angry look; I broke into a laughing fit. "Oh, lighten up. You are still more friend than vassal to me, Lydia."

The warrior shook her head slightly, disagreeing with that notion as she always has...but she still had a mirthful grin, and I knew that I had indeed reached that level of friendship...lately she had felt free to banter with me more with each passing day, which was somewhat unheard of between nobility and servant. "I am relieved at least to see you brought out of your more dire thoughts," she relayed.

"They will return," I hummed, resigned. "But moments like this make the duty more bearable. And adventuring _is_ fun in aspects."

"You do snicker in a crazy fashion when your arrow takes down a Draugr in one hit," said Lydia.

I shuddered. "Well, I _hate_ undead, you know that. But it is the fact that I walk through all of those ruins, discover the legacy of the land, living all of the tales I had been told as a child...and then, the thrill of coming upon a dragon's Word Wall, and feeling the knowledge awakening..." I flexed my hand, smiling slowly. "That makes it worthwhile."

She chuckled. "Therein lies the silver lining to your oh-so-dire fate."

"I suppose."

The rest of the meal, and thus the break in our journey, was spent in a more fulfilled kind of silence. But we did not have much time to gather our things before a high-pitched cry pierced the forest.

We stood instantly on our feet, eyes locked to the direction from whence it came. Lydia had already drawn her blade...my right hand was resting warily on my enchanted katana, Dragonbane. The source of the scream appeared quickly from being silhouetted in the trees, revealing a young girl, perhaps from the nearby town. She did not look to be much older than ten. Her skirts and shoes were in tatters, and her fair blonde hair was loose and slick with sweat; more than likely, she had been running for quite a way, and very fast.

"A child!" Lydia gasped, replacing her sword.

The girl collapsed in front of us onto her knees and panted for breath. "I...it...help...help, please...!" she choked out between gasps for air.

I knelt down and gathered her up gently, my hands on her shoulders. "Peace, child, peace...you are safe."

She swallowed and allowed herself to finally regain her composure before looking up at me with wide, deep blue eyes. "Are you adventurers? You have to be, you've got weapons and stuff; oh, please help me!" the girl rattled.

"Easy, easy..." I soothed. "Yes, we are traveling adventurers. Pray, calmly tell us what is happening. Are you hurt?"

"N-no," she stammered. "Just scratched up a little."

"Take some water, little one, and some potion," Lydia gently coaxed, handing her one of our light red bottles. "What is your name?"

She gulped down the liquid before answering. "My name is Jola..." her eyes widened as they met mine. "And please, will you help? Something...a dragon, it was a dragon, it flew over our camp...my daddy told me to run and find help...I heard a real loud roar and saw fire...I think..." she was now practically in tears. "I think it might have ate my dad and my cousins!"

"Dragon?" Lydia and I chorused, glancing toward each other in urgency.

"Yeah," Jola confirmed with a nod. "It was big and brown, and _noisy, _and flew in circles above the camp."

"Sounds like one, then," I said with conviction, already having decided on my next actions as I placed my horned Scaled helmet back on. "Will you take us to where you last saw this dragon?"

She nodded again with a relieved smile and turned, pointing. "Our camp's this way, near the river."

With only a moment to gather our things, we followed the girl back through the sparse trees and vegetation along the frozen ground. I had my bow ready, certain that I would have to bring the beast out of the sky; so did Lydia as she wordlessly followed along.

"I don't know if it's still there," the girl nervously admitted as we kept walking. "I'm scared of what the camp looks like now though."

She made sure we stayed rather close as we walked; not that I would have strayed far from a child that I could protect. Much to Lydia's chagrin in our earlier journeys, I liked to take the time in each new city to stop and play with the children. It helped me to retain my sanity, to return me to better, more peaceful times...memories of my own youth. And seeing those young faces, innocent to all of the crisis in the world around them, playing with wild abandon under every bright day...well, it reminded me what I really fought for.

It reminded me of the child in Helgen who was frozen solid, who could only watch as his father lay bleeding and dead, facing a monstrous black dragon while Stormcloak and Imperial alike called for him to run.

"Worry not," I smiled, bringing myself out of those memories. "Whatever happens, we will make sure that you end up somewhere safe. Do you have family somewhere, perhaps?"

She nodded tentatively. "My mother and my aunt should still be at our house in Morthal...my daddy and uncle took me and my cousins out to teach us camping and hunting."

"Good," Lydia said, echoing the relief we felt. "And as for the dragon, we can track it down...they fortunately tend not to stray too far from an area that they have sought to destroy."

Jola shuddered. "I'm glad I found some adventurers close by then, to help fight it. My dad and uncle are good fighters, but a dragon might be too strong for them."

"They often are, for most," I murmured, remembering how I felt with my first dragon battle. Exhilirated...but at the same time, terrified. As terrified as my first look into Alduin's blood-red eyes and yet determined enough to stand against one beast.

"Know what would be nice though...if we ran into the Dragonborn too."

I nearly stopped at her comment, my eyebrows raised. "You know of the Dragonborn, huh?"

Jola smiled. "I think everyone does. She's a legend. She killed a lot of dragons, and protected so many people from harm. They say she's going to save us all. I like to pretend I'm her, when I play, because she's so brave. She wouldn't have run, like I did." She glanced back up toward me with hopeful eyes. "Think we'll find her too?"

Amused, and very much flattered by this child's display of awe at my deeds, I shared a brief glance and a smile with Lydia and wondered whether or not I should reveal myself. The look she sent me back seemed to say to me, "this is _your_ show."

I chuckled and turned back to the girl. "Well, we might. Wherever a dragon is rumored to have attacked, chances are, she'll be on her way. I certainly know."

Jola blinked up at me and tilted her head. "Oh, you know the Dragonborn?"

"Actually," I drew with an anticipating smile, "You could say that-"

Suddenly, a thundrous noise in the distance cut me off. We all stopped, frozen on the spot as we had walked out of the forest and into a large clearing.

The sound of the beast's familiar, deafening roar went through my blood like the ocean crashing into a rock. It called to something deep within me, like a challenge. Every time I heard that sound, I had to stop and run toward it, dropping whatever I was doing otherwise...and at the same time, the human part of me would be scared stiff, shouting to the back of my head. _Run while you can, you fool!_

_No. Never._

I could see the charred remains of the camp near the water, with only one tent standing. I could smell the soot, and sense the very heat through the stark frozen air. I only hoped that there were still people left...at the very least, the father of the little girl now clinging to my leg in utter terror.

For there, flying above in a slow circle, was the dragon. Each roar sounded like thunder. Each wingbeat a lash against the wind.

Lydia immediately drew her bow and stepped forward, loosing an arrow to gain its attention. Its head turned against us on its next circle, and it loosed another angry roar that seemed to freeze my blood and boil it all at once.

And then I stepped up, my eyes facing his as he whizzed over us, murmuring _"Yol" _and turning its fire breath against us. We jumped out of the way, leading it away from the camp...yet I could hear the dragon turning again toward us, cursing me in its tongue. _"Dovakiin!" _it snarled.

I kept my bow on its form. "Lydia," I whispered harshly, "Stay back and keep her safe. I have this."

"Are you sure, my Thane?" she answered, gently taking a shivering Jola by the shoulders.

"Yes. He is just a common fire dragon," I assured, flashing a short grin to the both of them. "Pushover."

"Please be careful," the girl whimpered.

"Just wish me luck," I said. Without much pause, I rushed forward.

Now, to all the world, it was just myself and my quarry, the otherwise magnificent _Dovah_ that had chosen to cut an innocent family down in the wake of its fury.

I loosed an arrow upward, and missed the edge of its wing by inches. Cursing, I waited until it circled again and spewed its breath toward me. Narrowly dodging, I loosed another, and this time it struck true into the breast.

I was vaguely aware of a couple of other men nearby coming to my aid, brandishing swords for the next time it landed and throwing blasts of fire into the air. But I kept running it through with as many arrows as I could, though its fiery attacks often became too much, and I had to keep calling upon my healing magic to battle the intense pain licking across my skin.

But finally..._finally_ an arrow struck a weak spot into its neck, and he faltered. Blood gushing through several spots in his scales, crashing down in a blaze of ashy brown. The earth rumbled as he took a hard landing nearby, nearly knocking us all off our feet.

Still, even on the ground, the dragon was formidable. Heat blazed in its eyes as it turned and crawled, blasting fire in an arc toward us. It downed one of the men helping me, though I was quick enough this time for a magic barrier.

Our eyes locked, dragon and Dragonborn, but to him I was no more than an abomination to their blood. An ancient incarnation of their foes and fears, the true rulers of the Empire, who could use their Thu'um with very little training.

"This is for the child, and her family's lives," I snarled, and then took a deep breath. As I drew my sword, its maw snapped towards me...and I let loose.

_"IISS...SLEN!"_

As my voice echoed, the dragon's head snapped back, blasted with a furious wind of ice. Though it was not yet fully strong, the Frost Breath Shout was still enough to bring the fire-oriented creature into a short daze. As it was, I drew the Blades' sword Dragonbane and rushed it, electricity arcing along the silvery surface.

Its attempts at blindly snapping was met with parry after parry of blade to the maw. I was panting, aching, well past my body's level of stamina, yet I could feel nothing but the sword in my hand and the effects of the Shout, and the angry roars of the dragon as the sword's enchantment coursed across its body. _Just a little longer..._

As it rushed in for another snap, I leaped with a roar of my own and took to its head, stabbing wherever I could. The nose, the skull, the eye...

_SHICK!_

I tumbled from the dragon's head as it reared back, its death cry rattling the world around us. It fell next to me with a powerful _CRUNCH_, unmoving, its massive body settling.

And then, it started to dissolve. The scales and body of a flesh and blood creature disentegrated as if in fire, and I moved closer, knowing what was coming next.

Its essence, its body and soul, rose from its very bones and came toward me in a blast of light. I stood and breathed in, eyes closed, clutching the sword and taking in this familiar sensation...familiar, but still nothing short of _mind-numbing. _Its soul encased itself within me, and with it, the ability for me to someday use its power.

When the rush settled, I opened my eyes to view the dragon I slew...nothing more than a full skeleton, quiet and dead forevermore.

Only then was I aware of myself again. I released the breath I had been holding, and realized that I must have looked utterly blood-splattered and dirty. But that didn't matter as I met the eyes of the spectators. Two men, one holding his charred arm, were staring ahead at me with what I had come to know as disbelief. Lydia smiled with pride for her Thane as always, and Jola...

Jola was utterly dumbfounded. "You..._you!_ The _Dragonborn!_"

I released a shaky chuckle. "So they tell me."

Astounded, the girl laughed and sprinted towards me, embracing me with profound happiness and relief. I laughed along, gently patting her back. Among all of the reactions I had gotten to my deeds, I had to admit that a child's was most heartening. I could only imagine what it was like to bring their stories and legends to truth...after of course, making sure that they were no longer in danger.

"Praise the Eight," the uninjured man stepped forward, speaking in that thick, rough Nordic accent. He bowed quickly to me, and I noticed that he too was covered in a minute amount of dragon's blood; at least, I hadn't really been alone in the fight. "My lady, you have my utmost thanks for dispatching this beast. And for keeping my daughter safe."

"I was glad that she found me, really," I replied with a polite nod of my own as she released me to become enveloped in her father's arms. I looked over the two of them. "Is everyone else safe as well?"

The man's face fell. "Two of my nephews were...were taken, after the initial attack. Their brother and sister should be safe in that tent," he pointed. "And my brother..."

I followed his slow gaze to the crestfallen Nord, who seemed to be doubled over more in pain of heartbreak at the loss of two children than the pain of a fierce burn of dragon fire. "My brother will need a lot of time to heal."

I clenched my teeth and hung my head. The victory of a fight was always heartening, yes, but in my days of adventuring I had also discovered that there was hardly a worse feeling than being there too late for someone.

_Why do children have to ever be caught in this?_

"I am truly sorry," I murmured, catching the father's eye again. "Is there something more we can do? Provide a brief memorial, perhaps?"

He nodded, gulping to prevent a sob from reaching his throat. "It would be an honor for us to have your aid and blessing, Dragonborn."

"It is only my honor to be able to help," I answered, just as sincerely, and turned back to Lydia. "Let us help clean up here, then."

She nodded. "I'm right behind you."

And so that is how we ended another day of our journey, helping a broken and injured family honor their dead and escort them to the safety of a nearby inn. Still my heart was just as heavy with their melancholy, but moreover, I knew from their hardy demeanors that they would pull through and live as best they could with the rest of their children, and their families.

Jola kept smiling as she regarded me, every so often asking questions about my adventures and whether or not some rumors of my deeds were true. And as I sat around a warm hearth with the family I helped, filling up with food and anticipating a good night's rest, I reminded myself of a few things that I had forgotten in my thoughts from earlier.

_This is what I fight for. The simple people, families and children who would not be able to find their own destinies in this world if Alduin were to have his way._

_ So help me, he will not._


End file.
